His
by Quilliariya
Summary: Erza Scarlet was his. No one, absolutely no one in this goddamn world would be—no, should be—able to take her away from his arms, from his touch, from him.


_**Wanted to make something short since I've been feeling a little down the past few days, haha. **_

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own Fairy Tail.**

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><p><em>His.<em>

Erza Scarlet was his. No one, absolutely no one in this goddamn world would be—no, should be—able to take her away from his arms, from his touch, from _him. _

Him.

The one who caused countless tears to shed from her cheeks.

The one who betrayed her.

The one who hurt her.

The one who broke her.

And yet here he was, acting extremely selfish, unable to live up to the expectations he himself wrote. Jellal Fernandes kicked away his blankets, the hurt and heat inside him struggling to escape. Meredy was a few meters away from him (as they had agreed to keep their personal space to themselves, and Jellal was a man who liked his privacy very much), and when he checked if he had accidentally woken her, she didn't seem to stir. The pink-haired mage lied perfectly still, light, feather-like breaths escaping her slightly agape mouth.

The blue-haired man sighed quietly to himself, the pain in his heart still stinging brighter than ever. When he looked up to the night sky, the heavenly comfort of the stars greeted him, but as much as he wanted to say that everything was alright, alas, it was not.

He remembered everything.

He fought her.

He harmed her.

He wounded her.

Jellal left Meredy to herself, making sure to return after only a few minutes to assure that the young mage would be safe. He set out to what seemed to be the middle of the forest.

The night was long and comforting. The stars were bright and shining. The moon was huge and soothing.

It was a perfect night.

But he felt imperfect.

Jellal screamed.

All the pent-up rage and anger that seemed to make his heart swell escaped from his throat, out into the open air and into the skies, disappearing—forever unheard except for him. Tears were stinging his eyes, and were running down his tattoed cheek, to his chin, and to the ground, melting into the earth below.

The night was loving, the night was kind. It was during these times that he felt most alone, and it was during these times that he craved the presence of the warm, red-haired scarlet mage, whose light pulled him out of the darkness.

He damaged her.

He injured her.

He nearly killed her.

He suffered. Too much, in fact. For a child who was taken into a prison at a young age, and then possessed by evil for a bad quarter of his life, and then to be taken into the magic council for something he couldn't even remember and didn't even mean doing—he actually seemed pretty sane.

His name was taboo. His existence was not meant.

Was this really the future of the starry-eyed child who saw the light in something that didn't deserve it?

He didn't pity himself. He thought himself unworthy of pity, even from himself. He didn't deserve pity. He was once evil. He was once insane.

Still, he wanted her. She was beautiful. She was strong. She was wonderful.

He watched her.

He cared for her.

He loved her.

She was _his_. He wanted her to be _his._ He wanted her to say his name with love like she did long ago, to hug him like he was a child, to whisper sweet nothings in his ear whenever he felt as if he should die. He was selfish, he knew that.

But she was his.

She used to be _his._

Crystalline tears still continued streaming down his face, and as the blue haired mage kneeled on the ground in agony, finally allowing the years of hurt and pain to take over him—he looked to the sky, and prayed to the Celestial King or Mavis or any other god out there that would hear him.

The Heavenly body user did this whenever his heart ached too much for him to bear. When all the problems of the world seemed to kill his shoulders. When he didn't understand why him of all people should be feeling this way.

But he understood.

Had it been someone else, they would've not endured it.

The first time he had screamed into the night sky was when she disappeared. She and her little group. He cried out for someone, anyone to help them, to help _her_, to keep her safe from harm, from suffering—from the pain that he endured.

He wanted her light. He needed her light to survive.

And she was gone.

A faint hallucination of fighting had filled his weak body in his cell, and he didn't mind _his _pain anymore.

The one he loved was being hurt by someone he was not aware of.

He was weak.

He was useless.

He was vulnerable.

But still, he whispered her name. Weak as he was. Humiliated as he was. Pained as he was. He didn't care. All that mattered at the moment was _her._

And now, he felt worthless. He wanted to be by her side.

He wanted to hold her. He wanted to caress her face, tell her everything's going to be alright. He wanted to tease her and watch as her face reddens along with his.

Selfish, selfish Jellal.

Meredy was a heavy sleeper, despite the fact that she rejected the idea. She could sleep through nearly anything, and it was a problem when they needed to get up early for a mission.

He could scream all he wanted.

He could let everything out.

He could shout and cry and roll over in agony.

He could proclaim his love to her to the heavens above.


End file.
